New Girl in Town
by images-in-words
Summary: From a prompt given to me by DivineEscape. Two-shot. AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Prompt** **:** **Quinntana pairing. Marley is new to the city. She's just recently moved into the same building as Santana and Quinn, and becomes close friends with Quinn. Santana gets a little jealous and decides to confide in Rachel – only to find out that Marley is actually Rachel's new girlfriend!**

 **New Girl in Town** _~ a Quinntana story ~_

The city is a big place. Everything about it is big: big buildings, big noises, big attitude, big hopes and dreams. It's a lot to take in, a lot to absorb. Quinn's very much at home here now, but she remembers very well how overwhelming she'd found it when she'd first moved here from small-town Ohio. She remembers the near sensory overload she'd felt her first few months here, how jarringly different it all was from the way things had been back home. Of course, Santana had been there to help her through it all, but some people don't have that kind of support system. That's why Quinn feels a kind of moral obligation to take newcomers under her wing and sort of guide them along until they find their own way.

When she first met Marley Rose, she'd instantly taken a liking to the fresh-faced girl with the wide, sparkling eyes and even wider smile. She was sitting outside her office building early one morning, eating her breakfast on a bench and watching the teeming masses of humanity passing by on the sidewalks, when she noticed the tall, slender beauty with a fall of long strawberry blonde-ish hair spilling out from under a very cute newsboy cap standing still in the middle of everything. She kept looking down at a piece of paper and up at everything else around her with a distressed, confused look on her face while the hustling, bustling pulse of the city beat around her, pedestrians deftly stepping past as though she weren't even there.

"Hey," she called out from her bench, then again, "Hey!" after the first call failed to garner a response.

The girl finally turned in Quinn's direction. Her look of consternation changed to one of relief when she caught site of Quinn's friendly smile. Returning the smile, she came over to the bench at Quinn's insistent, beckoning gesture.

"I couldn't help but notice you were looking kind of confused there, and I wanted to know if I could help," Quinn said, the words spilling out before she realized she hadn't offered her name or a handshake. "I'm sorry." She extended her hand. "Quinn. I work in the giant building over here, behind us."

Grinning, Marley took her hand, shook it firmly. "Hi, Quinn. I'm Marley. Marley Rose. Nice to meet you.." She took out the folded piece of paper, which she'd pocketed before sitting down on the bench beside Quinn, and released Quinn's hand to unfold it again. "Oh, wait. That must be – yes. Yes, it is. I'm sure of it."

"Sure of what?"

"That's the building I was looking for. I have an interview there today. Not for another hour and a half or so, but Rachel's always going on about the importance of being early and not just _on time,_ so -"

Quinn laughed. "Oh my God. You're _her._ My first-thing-in-the-morning interview."

Eyes wide, Marley glanced down again at her piece of paper. Rachel had typed it up for her, with every possible detail included. "You're...Ms. Fabray? Editor in need of an administrative assistant?"

"That's me," Quinn replied. "And lifelong friend – well, almost – of Rachel Berry. And _you_ are her, and I quote, _extraordinarily beautiful and exceptionally talented_ new girlfriend, in need of a better-paying job."

"Guilty as charged. Thanks for letting her talk you into interviewing me. I promise, I'm not this confused all the time. It's just...I used to commute from New Jersey, and then Rachel asked me to move in with her, so..." She paused with an amusingly bashful look on her pretty face. "Anyway, I'm not as familiar with this part of the city as I am with her neighborhood, at least not yet."

Quinn pats her hand, sympathetically. "You'll be just fine, after a while. It takes a little time to adjust when you first move here." She sipped at her coffee, wrapped up the remainder of her bacon, egg and cheese sandwich. "I know it took me a couple of months to really get used to everything."

"I hope so. Rachel's been amazing, but – you know, she's always running around to _this_ audition for _that_ show, so she can't go everywhere with me all the time. I guess it's good for me anyway, having to learn a few things on my own, right?"

"That's how we did it when we all first moved here. You know Rachel lived with me and my fiancee for several years, right?"

"She's mentioned it a few times. And by _a few_ I mean at least a hundred," Marley laughed. "She talks about a lot of things, the two of you most of all. She really loves you guys."

Quinn ducked her head, blushing. "We love her too. And I can see why she likes you as well."

"You...you haven't told Santana about me, right? That I'm with Rachel? Because Rachel really doesn't want her to know until 'the time is right,' whatever that means. I don't understand it, but Rachel's been pretty insistent about it, so..."

"No, I _haven't_ mentioned it, and I won't. I promised Rachel that I wouldn't say anything about that. I keep my promises," Quinn said firmly. Marley let out a sigh of relief. "Do you think you'll be able to find the building a little better tomorrow?"

"I think so...wait. Does that mean -"

"You've got the job. Welcome aboard, Marley Rose."

* * *

Since then, Quinn and Marley have become good friends. Close. Tight. Friendships with other women haven't always been easy for Quinn, but Marley is so sweet and nice that it's been remarkably smooth sailing since the day they first met. Everybody in the office loves her, so much so that they don't even mind when Rachel comes by and tries to organize their desks.

It's been such a nice thing, having a friend like Marley, that Quinn wants to keep it to herself a little bit. Not that she thinks Santana wouldn't like Marley, but she's enjoying having a friend who's outside the insular loop of their inner circle, one who doesn't know the colorful – some would say _sordid –_ story of their shared past. Marley's like a clean slate, someone who's not aware of every single thing that's happened in her life, every bad choice, every unfortunate decision. She's only the newer, better, more improved version of herself in Marley's eyes, and she really likes that.

The price she sometimes pays for it, however, she doesn't like so much.

"Want to watch a movie tonight?" Santana asks as they're both getting dressed for work. "It feels like it's been ages since we just relaxed together, had a night in."

"I agree, but -"

Santana's eyes narrow. She's heard that phrase enough times in the last couple of months to know that nothing good ever follows it. Enough times that she's really coming to hate it.

"But what? No, wait, don't tell me – you've got plans with Marley. Right? Jesus, Quinn, doesn't that chick have any other friends?"

She knows she'd made a mistake when she'd decided not to tell Santana that Marley and Rachel are a couple. She just didn't want Santana badgering Rachel for information about her, being the somewhat – okay, _very –_ nosy person she could sometimes be. Rachel has enough on her plate these days anyway. It's actually because of the fact that she's scored a starring role in a new show that Marley has all this free time to fill up, with Rachel spending long hours in rehearsal at the theater.

"Of course she does, San – but they're in New Jersey, and it's not always easy for them to make it into the city, or for Marley to get out there. Besides, she's still settling into her place. Remember how much of an adjustment it was when we moved here?"

Santana sits down on the bed, letting out a frustrated sigh with a huff. "An adjustment for _you,_ maybe. I didn't have much trouble with it, and neither did Rachel."

"Really?" Quinn replies with one raised eyebrow. "I seem to recall things a little differently. Like how you had trouble sleeping for the first month and a half or so because of all the noise outside the loft, for example."

"That got a lot better once you joined me in bed," Santana snickers. "At least then I could ignore the noises outside because of all the noise you made _inside._ "

Quinn grabs a pillow off the bed, makes a threatening gesture with it when Santana actually sticks out her tongue at her. "Very funny, San. Look, Marley just needs someone to help her out a little, that's all. I promise we'll have movie night soon."

She leans down to kiss Santana, who eagerly accepts the offering of her lips.

"We'd better. I'm holding you to that, Q."

* * *

Quinn does indeed get better at finding a balance between spending time with Marley and spending time at home with Santana over the next few weeks, but it doesn't do all that much to tamp down Santana's burning curiosity about the woman who's become Quinn's best friend.

"Why don't you invite her over for dinner sometime?"

Quinn turns her body over to face Santana, props herself up on her elbow before answering with a sleepy, _"_ _What?"_ It's a lazy Saturday morning, as every Saturday morning in the Fabray-Lopez household is, and Quinn's not quite focused and alert just yet.

"I _said,_ why don't you invite her over for dinner sometime?" Santana repeats, rolling her eyes at her amusingly tousled fiancee. Quinn's mane of blonde hair is always messy as hell when she wakes up in the morning, yet somehow still incredibly gorgeous. "And by _her,_ I mean Marley. Also known as your new BFF."

"You want me to invite Marley over for dinner?" Quinn blinks owlishly, as though she's still not quite comprehending the question. "Why?"

"Well, for starters, because I haven't met her yet, despite the fact that she's been taking up seemingly half your free time these days – time, I might add, you used to spend with _me._ Not for nothing, but that could make a girl a little jealous."

"Santana -" Quinn starts to protest, but the other woman cuts her off with a wave of her hand.

"I'm not saying I _am_ jealous, Q. You know I trust you. It's just...look, I need to see for myself what this chick is all about. You haven't spent this much time with anyone besides me since...well, damn, since Rachel was living with us. I don't think it's too much to ask to have her over for dinner so that I can get to know her a little bit myself."

 _Rachel,_ Quinn thinks. _I'll have to clear this with her first. I'm not sure she'll go along with it, but I know I can't keep Santana at bay forever._

Santana, seeing Quinn suddenly lost in thought, snaps her fingers to get the other woman out of her head. "Hey, Q. Are you still with me here?"

"I don't know, San," she says, still trying to order her thoughts. It's way too early for this. "Marley...she's actually kind of shy." That much is true. The girl isn't exactly an introvert, but she's not the big, outgoing personality that Rachel and Santana are, either. "And you're a _lot_ to take in."

"Really? I hadn't noticed," Santana quips. "Aw, come on, Q. I promise I'll play nice. Cheerios honor."

"Nice try. You know as well as I do that the Cheerios _had_ no honor. Coach Sue wouldn't allow it."

"Fair enough. But still." Santana rises from the sheets, topless as usual, wearing only a skimpy pair of lacy boy shorts. Quinn squeezes her eyes shut, not wanting to be tempted by her fiancee's insanely hot body into spending the entire day in bed. Santana smirks at the sight. "Think about it," she purrs. "I'll make it worth your while..." her voice trails off teasingly as she saunters off to the bathroom.

Quinn shifts again to lie on her back, flopping her head down on the pillow, hard. Her eyes are still screwed shut, but visions of Santana's caramel skin and perfect curves dance in her head anyway.

"Don't use all the hot water!" she shouts. Santana's muffled laughter through the bathroom door is all she gets in reply.

* * *

It's been several days, and Quinn still hasn't committed to inviting Marley over for dinner. Rachel hasn't been easy to pin down, with her now even busier schedule, so she's been unable to reach the pint-sized starlet despite several frantic attempts via text, e-mail and voice mail. Marley, being her usual sweet self, has been the only thing that's been able to stem the mounting tide of tension and worry rising inside Quinn.

Santana's noticed the tension, though, and maybe _now_ she's getting a little jealous.

"Quinn," she finally says over dinner. "Help me out here. I'm really not understanding what the big deal is about inviting Marley over. Am I really so terrifying that you think she's gonna run out the door and never want to see you or speak to you again after meeting me?"

"What? No, of course not. Don't be ridiculous." Quinn agitatedly stirs butter into her sweet corn. "That's not it at all."

"Then _what is it?_ I already promised to be nice. I even offered to cook, and you know I don't do that for just anyone." Santana pauses as a new thought comes to her. "If it makes you feel better, we can even invite someone else to join us. I know Rachel's really busy with her new show, so maybe...Tina? Kurt and Blaine? Anyone."

It's been a while since they had a proper dinner party. Not since Rachel left, really. Quinn has to admit that could be fun. But she doesn't want to overwhelm Marley either. She feels protective of her, like a big sister.

"I don't know, San," she says finally, shrugging shoulders as she cuts into her grilled chicken breast. "I'll think about it."

Santana puts her fork down on the table, shaking her head, chuckling ruefully. "That's all you've _been_ doing, is thinking about it. I don't get this, Q. I really don't." She gets up, throws her napkin beside her plate. "I said I trust you, and I do. Please don't give me a reason _not_ to, okay?"

" _San!_ Santana, come on," Quinn calls after her. The bedroom door slams shut. "Damn it."

* * *

It's a minor miracle that Rachel's got a spare minute to answer her phone, surprised to see that it's Santana calling. "Hello, Santana. To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?"

Santana sniffles, wipes her eyes free of tears. She doesn't want Rachel to hear the aggravation in her voice. "Maybe I just wanted to hear the _ridiculous_ way you answer the phone, Miss Manners," she teases. "Or maybe I just wanted to talk to my friend."

"You miss me, don't you? You said you wouldn't when I moved out, but I knew that wasn't true," Rachel shoots back. "It's good to hear from you."

"Thanks. It's good to hear your voice too, short stack," Santana admits, smiling in spite of herself. They've come a long way since their high school days; sometimes it's still hard for her to believe that Rachel Berry is one of her closest and dearest friends, but she can't deny it's true. "Listen – I have a question for you."

"A question? Okay, sure. I have a little time. Our director is such a slave driver, honestly. It's a wonder we even get to eat around here. But you don't want to hear about that, I'm sure. First world musical theater problems."

"Oh, come on, Rachel. You know I love hearing about your Broadway adventures. However, in this case, you're right."

Rachel laughs. "Of course. So what's up?"

"Well..." Now that she's finally got a hold of Rachel, she's not entirely sure how to go about bringing the whole Marley thing up. "It's about Quinn. She...she's been getting really close with this new girl at work. Like, spending lots of time with her outside the office. Going to museums and art shows and all that kind of thing."

"All the things you _hate_ doing, but occasionally do just so Quinn doesn't make you sleep on the couch," Rachel teases. "I'm sorry. Please go on."

"Damn you and your keen powers of observation, you tiny bitch. Now, seriously. You know I trust Q. You know I know she would never cheat on me. You know that, right?"

"Of course I do, Santana. And yet you're worried. Am I correct?"

"I...I don't know. I feel like I'm being silly, like I'm overreacting – and yeah, it's not like that's never happened before, but...I can't shake the feeling that there's something Quinn's not telling me. And it's driving me crazy! I don't know what to do."

Rachel smiles, holding in the laughter that's threatening to burst out of her. She's been waiting for the right time to tell her friend about her new relationship, but between rehearsals and...well, not wanting to jinx things with Marley by talking about her too soon, too much, and to too many people, she's been holding back. In the past, she's torpedoed too many relationships by doing just that, by not waiting until she's certain that things are real and solid and meant to last, by building things up way too much in her mind and gushing too soon about them to everyone. Now she's been trying to do something new, something different.

But now it seems that the time, right or not, is upon her to say what she's been dying to say since she and Marley became official.

"Santana, you really don't have anything to worry about. Quinn hasn't had a best friend in a long time – well, a best friend who's not you or me, anyway. Maybe she's not ready to share that friendship with anyone else yet."

"That doesn't make any sense, Rachel. Q and I have shared everything since we were Cheerios together. She's the first person I told after Brittany and I lost our virginity to each other, the person who held me all night and let me cry myself to sleep after B and I broke up...why wouldn't she share this with me?"

"San, listen – it's okay. Really. You have nothing to worry about."

"I don't like it. I don't like it, and I hate that I don't like it. I mean, I'm happy for Quinn if this girl is serving some kind of purpose in her life, meeting some need I can't fulfill, and yet..." Santana lets out a frustrated sigh, feeling the sting of tears pricking at the corners of her eyes once again. "Fuck. I _hate_ feeling this way."

"Look, Santana. I have something to tell you."

"What? That I'm so scary that Q doesn't want me to meet her new bestie? That I'm so _terrifying_ that she thinks this girl's gonna turn and run out of her life once she meets me?"

Santana feels sad and angry and confused, and it's all coming out now. She hates not being in control of her emotions, but Rachel's always been there to listen and comfort without judgment at moments like this.

" _Santana._ Stop. Listen to me. Marley...she's -"

"She's what? Stealing Quinn away from me?" Santana yells. "Oh, _hell_ no! It is _not_ going down like that!"

The words rush out in a hurry, louder than Rachel had intended. "Marley is my girlfriend."

Santana feels as though she's just smashed into a brick wall. She's not sure she heard was she thinks she just heard. "Wait... _what?"_

"I said, _Marley is my girlfriend._ We've been together for a while now. I - I've been waiting for the right time to tell you, because...well, you know how I get. Every new relationship is the biggest, the best, the truest of true loves, right away, and it all gets too intense, too fast, and it just gets...jinxed. You know what I mean?"

" _Jinxed?_ What the hell are you talking about, Rachel?" Santana asks, bewildered. "How could you keep something like this from me?" A realization hits her. "You...you asked Quinn not to tell me either, didn't you?"

"Yes. I made her promise not to tell you because _I_ wanted to tell you, as I said, when the time was right. Obviously this isn't the way I wanted it to happen, but -"

Santana laughs, surprising Rachel. "Well, fuck me. I didn't think you had it in you to be that sneaky." Relief courses through her body. "You still suck for not telling me right away, though, even if you didn't want to tell everyone else."

"I didn't know that she and Quinn would hit it off right away like that," Rachel admits. "I mean, I had hoped they would get along, but I never thought they'd become so close."

Santana purses her lips. "Why did you tell Quinn before you told me? I'm kind of hurt by that, believe it or not."

"Because Marley had just moved in with me, she needed a better job, and I knew that Quinn was looking for a new assistant. Quinn was a little hesitant at first, but I talked her into giving Marley an interview, and then when they met, they just clicked instantly. So much so that Quinn hired her on the spot."

"Okay...I guess that explains it, sort of. You didn't want to jinx the interview either, I suppose?"

"I didn't want to jinx _anything,_ Santana. I..." Rachel sighs. "I'm sorry if this put your relationship with Quinn under any stress. It certainly wasn't my intention to do so. Look, Marley is very special. She's smart and funny and sweet and kind and so beautiful and talented – and I know I've said this before, but this time it's different. I think -" She pauses, takes a deep breath, knowing the seriousness of what she's about to say. "No. I _know_ she's the one."

Santana's eyes widen, hearing something in Rachel's voice that she's never heard before. There's a definitive quality to those words, a certainty that's never colored her tone until this moment. She's kind of blown away by it.

"Wow, Rachel. That...that's _great_. That's really great!" She laughs, caught up in the moment, caught up in happiness for her friend, and for herself, knowing that Marley is most definitely not any kind of threat to her own relationship. "I'm so happy for you!"

"It's exciting," Rachel admits. There's a touch of wonder in her voice. "I've never felt this way about anyone. I mean, I've been in love before, but this is...this is something more, something greater than anything I've ever felt in my life."

"Yeah. I know what you mean, short stack." Thoughts of a certain hazel-eyed blonde beauty invade Santana's mind. "So, listen. I want you and Marley to come over for dinner ASAP, all right? We should celebrate. I'll even cook."

"That would be lovely, Santana. I'll make time for it. In fact, I'm putting it in my planner now for transferral to my calendar app later."

"Yeah, yeah. Just don't make a PowerPoint about it. Oh, and tell Q it's all right with you. She's not going to make a move without your OK."

"I'll text her right away." There are voices in the background. Someone's calling Rachel's name. She sighs. "And now I have to go. It was wonderful to catch up with you, Santana. We'll firm up the plans soon. I love you. Bye!"

"Bye. And break a leg! _Two,_ even."

The call ends. Santana smiles, looking down at her phone. It's nice that things are making sense in her world again. She's still not one hundred percent happy that Rachel and Quinn kept this from her, but at least now she understands the reasons why. Love and friendship can make people do weird things. She knows that better than most.


	2. Chapter 2

"I'm nervous," Marley says for at least the fifth time as she and Rachel stand outside the door to Quinn and Santana's apartment. "What if Santana doesn't like me? I mean, you've told me how she can get with people she doesn't like..."

Rachel rubs her girlfriend's arm soothingly. "How she _used_ to get, Marley," she reminds her. "Not how she is _now._ Santana will always have a certain...edge to her personality, but she's actually mellowed quite a lot in recent years. Settling down with Quinn has had a lot to do with that."

"I'm sure you're right," Marley allows with a sigh. "I just can't imagine not being friends with Quinn, even though we've only known each other for a short time. And she's been so great at work, too."

"I assure you, your friendship with Quinn is in no danger this evening. And neither is your status at work." She raises her hand to knock on the door, fixes Marley with a reassuring look. "Promise. Now – are you ready, or do you need another minute?"

Marley nods, trying to appear more confident than she really feels. Confidence is something that's always been a bit of an issue for her, although she's been getting better with it since she's been with Rachel, thanks to the diminutive starlet's relentless campaign of positivity and encouragement. If it weren't for Rachel, she thinks, she'd still be stuck in New Jersey, dreaming her dreams instead of taking steps to make them come true. The job at Quinn's office is only the first one. The coffee house shows that Rachel is helping her book is the second. After that, a demo CD. And then...who knows? But none of it would be possible without the woman next to her. The woman who believes in her. The woman who loves her, that she loves back. The least she can do in return is get through this dinner tonight.

"I'm ready. Let's do this."

Rachel smiles. "That's my girl." She raps her knuckles smartly against the door. "Here goes..."

* * *

The table is beautifully, elegantly set, with all their best china and crystal glinting in the overhead lighting, and long, slender candles burning on either side of the floral centerpiece. Santana proudly snaps a picture of it with her phone. It's all Quinn, with her practiced amateur photographer's eye for composition and contrast. Santana's own contribution is the wine, a vintage her doctor father had recommended; he'd taken up wine collecting after finally cutting back on his long hours at the hospital back home in Lima, the two bottles chilling in ice-filled buckets on a small folding table next to the dining table.

A glance at her phone screen tells her it's almost seven o'clock, which means that Rachel and Marley will be arriving any minute. Her former roommate has always detested lateness, so she knows that the two visitors will either be early or exactly on time.

"Hey, Q. Do you want me to open the wine bottles now, or after Rachel and Marley get here?"

Quinn saunters into the dining area from the bedroom, looking positively radiant in the simple, shimmering silver dress she's wearing, a small red flower tucked behind one ear, nestled in the golden tresses of her wavy, shoulder length blonde hair.

"Wow. You clean up nicely, Fabray," Santana says with a low whistle of appreciation, stunned as always at how gorgeous the woman she's soon going to be able to call her wife is.

Smiling, Quinn ducks her head, pleased at the compliment but not wanting to show it too much. "Flatterer. Um, the wine should be okay to open after they arrive. In the meantime, maybe we can -"

Several short, sharp knocks on the door cut through the soft music wafting through the air, rich with the aroma of just-cooked food.

"Hold that thought – especially if it was about macking," Santana grins mischievously. "It is, as Rachel would say, _showtime._ "

She opens the door, and as expected, she's greeted by Rachel's dazzling thousand-watt smile. The starlet is flanked by a taller but quite lovely brunette whose eyes are wide and clearly nervous.

"Hello, Santana," Rachel greets her in that strangely formal way she always has. "It's so good to see you!"

"Good to see you too, hobbit," Santana returns, using the pejorative with which she'd once referred to Rachel now as a term of endearment, opening her arms for the little diva to embrace her. "Not too hard now. I might need my spleen later," she jibes affectionately.

Quinn joins her at the door, exclaiming "Marley!" when she sees her close friend and coworker clearly at a loss as to what do while Rachel and Santana are hugging each other. "Hi! Don't mind them," she says, gesturing to the two embracing in the doorway. "They're always a little ridiculous whenever they see each other."

"Noted," Marley replies, letting out the nervous breath she's been holding. "Thanks for inviting us over."

"You're welcome – but honestly, it's something we should have done some time ago."

Rachel and Santana finally step out of each other's arms, grinning like fools. "Yes, well," Rachel says. "There was the little matter of a certain secret that's since been revealed."

"I'm still not sure I can forgive you for that," Santana teases, stepping aside to finally let Marley and Rachel into the apartment, closing the door after them. "But if you let me tell your girl here some embarrassing Glee stories over dinner, I guess we can call it even." She winks at Marley, who can only smile a bewildered smile in reply.

"Stop teasing Rachel, San," Quinn admonishes her fiancee lightly. "She's already apologized for everything, remember?"

"No, no." Rachel shakes her head as she helps Marley out of her jacket, then doffs her own before handing them to Santana to put away in the guest room. "Fair is fair. I admit, I made a mistake in being so overly cautious and in so doing I put Santana in a situation that caused her undue, unnecessary stress. The least I can do to make up for it is let Santana embarrass me a little – especially since you wouldn't even let me purchase a bottle of wine for tonight's event."

"It's not a state function, Rachel," Santana cracks upon her return to the living room, where Marley is settling into the big, plush couch that faces the wall upon which the giant flat-screen TV is mounted. "We can handle supplying our own wine.

"Clearly," Marley says, looking around at the stylishly furnished apartment before finding her best friend's eyes. "This place is really, really nice, Quinn."

Quinn smiles warmly at the younger woman. "Thanks. Somehow, San and I have done all right for ourselves. And so has Rachel." Quinn sends an affectionate smile to her former roommate, who's settling in on the couch next to Marley. "She contributed so much to this place when she was here, but then things started happening for her on Broadway, and it kind of became necessary for her to find a place that was closer to the theater district, so..."

"I really didn't want to leave you two, in spite of that," Rachel says. "Who knew what kind of trouble you guys would get into without me around to keep you in check?"

From her place by the little folding tables where the wine's been chilling, Santana calls, "If by 'trouble,' you mean _fall insanely in love,_ then I think _you_ knew."

"Aww, that's so sweet," Marley gushes. "You two make an amazing couple."

"You hear that, Q? She's been here for five minutes, and already she recognizes the awesomeness that is Quinntana!" crows Santana, working to slowly dislodge the cork from the first bottle of wine. "I think that calls for a celebratory mack on the lips, don't you?"

Laughing, Quinn crosses the floor to where Santana stands, then plants a soft, sweet but chaste kiss on her fiancee's lips. "There's more where that came from later, if you keep up the good behavior," she whispers, pitching her voice low so that only Santana can hear.

"There better be," Santana retorts just as the cork pops, rocketing upwards to bounce off the ceiling and land harmlessly on the carpet. "Whoa!"

Quinn steps away and beckons for the two guests on the couch to approach the dinner table. "Come on, you two. San cooked us all a great meal. Let's start enjoying it, shall we?"

Marley feels the tension that's been coiled in her back and shoulders all day begin to dissipate as she and Rachel rise from the couch. "Yes, let's," she says, and for the first time, she feels as confident and together as she sounds.

* * *

"...so there we are, all in our Lady Gaga outfits, and Rachel comes in with like twenty Beanie Babies stapled to her clothes, and we're all like, what the actual hell? It was the funniest thing ever," Santana cackles, wiping away tears of laughter. It's the third embarrassing story she's told about Rachel, and they're only halfway through dinner.

"Oh my God," Rachel moans. She feels her face heat up once again, knowing it's not due to the alcohol she's consumed, but rather the mortification she's feeling at having all these terrible stories being told in front of Marley, who's been laughing nearly as hard as Santana all night. "Okay, Santana – I think that's enough stories now."

"Oh, come on, Rachel," says Marley, gently nudging her in the ribs while Quinn looks on in amusement. "I'm learning so much about you! And Santana's such a great storyteller." She catches the Latina's eye, receives a smile and an upraised hand, which Marley reaches across the table to high five.

"She is that," Quinn agrees around a sip from her wine glass. "Among other things. However, that doesn't mean there aren't any embarrassing tales to be told about _her..._ "

"Don't even _think_ about it, Q," Santana warns, tossing her napkin in her fiancee's direction. "Remember, you and Rachel both kept the truth about Marley from me for weeks. That means you're just as guilty as she is. I could just as easily tell her all kinds of stuff about _you,_ you know."

"But then you'd be sleeping on that couch - " She points at the piece of furniture with the hand that's still holding the wine glass. " - and not in our nice, big, warm, comfy bed." Her hazel eyes flash with triumph at Santana's open mouthed expression of shock. "We both know you wouldn't like that very much, now would you?"

Rachel lets out a hearty laugh as Marley stares at Quinn in shock. This is a side of Quinn that she's never seen before, not even at work; although she _has_ heard that it's not wise to invoke the wrath of 'Ms. Fabray,' she's never actually witnessed the slightest flare of the blonde beauty's temper until now.

"Oh, you've still got it, Quinn," the Broadway starlet chuckles, drawing an affirmative nod from her longtime friend. "Not that I ever thought for a second you might have lost it, of course."

"Never doubt it," Quinn agrees, and the smile on her face is mirthful, but Marley can see there's some steel behind it, revealing another layer of depth to the woman who's become so dear to her in such a short period of time. Quinn raises her glass to her as she catches her staring. "I can still be the Head Bitch in Charge when I need to be."

"Amen to that," Santana murmurs.

* * *

 _It's late,_ Rachel thinks. _How did it get so late so fast?_ Thank goodness she doesn't have to be at the theater tomorrow. It's late, and they've all had too much wine, and Quinn and Santana are both wedged into a single recliner seat, kissing each other's faces off, and Marley's hand is up her shirt and her fingers are all tangled up in Marley's hair and _they're_ kissing too, and – oh, God, it's _wonderful._

"Marley," she gasps, "Wait. Maybe we should – should take this into the guest room."

"Don't wanna. I'm...I'm comfy right here. N' so...so is my hand." Marley's got the most perfect tipsy smile on her face, and Rachel has to admit that her hand _does_ feel rather good perched where it is at the present moment. And when did Marley's hair get so delightfully soft?

"And Quinn and Santana do appear to be kind of... _preoccupied_...themselves," Rachel says, stealing a glance at their hostesses to confirm their complete obliviousness to everything but each other. Marley does something with her hand, something between a squeeze and a caress, and Rachel bites her lip to soften the _"_ _Oh..."_ that forces its way through her teeth.

"S'right. Now...stop looking at _them_ , n' look at me in...instead."

This seems like an eminently reasonable request. Rachel finds that the room seems not to move as much when she focuses on a specific point – like Marley's lovely face, for example, with its goofy, lopsided drunken grin.

Marley's hand does that _thing_ again, and Rachel's body spasms as a hot knife of pleasure slashes through her. "God, whatever it is you're doing in there, please - for the love of Barbra, _please_ don't stop," she pants, and then she reattaches her mouth to Marley's while somehow simultaneously positioning herself atop her girlfriend's lap.

Across from them, Quinn opens one eye to see what's going on over on the couch. That eye widens when she realizes that Marley's got _both_ hands underneath Rachel's shirt, and Rachel's frantically, clumsily trying to pull said shirt up over her head.

"San," she whispers, trying to redirect her fiancee's attention away from her neck, which she's currently attacking with kisses, licks and nips, and toward what their guests are doing. "Oh my God, San. You have to see this. Marley...and Rachel. Santana, look at them!"

Santana lazily turns her head, then her mouth forms an O of surprise. "Damn, Q. Your BFF's putting some serious moves on our hobbit!" she laughs.

Rachel's lurching and wobbling, her position precarious atop Marley's lap; her head's a little stuck in her shirt for a moment, but then she lets out a victorious little "Ha!" as she flings the recalcitrant garment away. She tosses her hair from side to side as Marley's hands work their magic on Rachel's lace-covered breasts.

"Were Rachel's boobs always that size?" Santana absently wonders aloud before Quinn playfully smacks her arm. "Ow! I'm just saying, they look a little bigger now."

"And that's enough looking for you," Quinn hisses. "Maybe we should take this into our room and give them some privacy out here?"

"And miss the show? Come on, Q. This is better than a movie!"

"No, what's better than a movie is me taking off all your fucking clothes and putting my mouth on your -"

"Good point. Let's go." Santana carefully disentangles herself from between Quinn and the recliner, offers Quinn her hands so she can pull her up and out of the chair. The blonde accepts, and in a moment, she and Santana are both upright, if a little wobbly themselves.

Quinn puts one finger to her lips _. "Quietly."_

"You know I can't be quiet when you do that thing with your -"

"Shut up, San. Let's go before they notice us."

* * *

Much later, when Quinn and Santana awake, it's hard for them to keep from laughing when they look at each other. After all the tension caused by Quinn's keeping the secret of Rachel and Marley's relationship, and then the worry that the previous night's dinner might be anything less than perfect, it feels really good that it's all behind them now, at last.

"I'm really sorry that I had to keep the truth from you," Quinn says, lying on her back with Santana's head on her shoulders, arms tucked in tight against her body. "But Rachel made me promise, and I couldn't go back on my word. You understand, right?"

Santana drapes an arm across Quinn's chest, nods against the other woman's shoulder. "Of course I understand. I mean, it's so typically, dramatically Rachel. She could have just told me sooner, before you said 'yes' to interviewing Marley. It would have eliminated so much stress. But that's our hobbit for you."

"I get it, though. I'm not saying she was right, but I get it. Love hasn't come easily to her the way it did for you and me. I don't necessarily believe in jinxes, but Rachel's always been one to blame herself. I understand why she thought it was time to try doing things a little differently, even if it doesn't necessarily make sense to us." Quinn takes in a deep breath of contentment, reveling in the feel of Santana's skin against hers. "I know she wanted to tell you. She's always told you everything, even before telling me. That's why you two are best friends."

"Huh. I guess I never thought of it that way, but...I guess you're right. Rachel and I have come really far since the old days, haven't we?" They share a light laugh, each thinking her own thoughts, lost in her own memories. Silent moments pass before Santana speaks again. "Who would have thought that we would become best friends, after everything that went on in Glee, those days in the loft when we practically tried to kill each other every other day for the first few months? Kinda crazy, right?"

Quinn shifts onto her side so that she can face her fiancee, look her in the eye, take in every last detail of her beautiful face. "Yup, crazy. Like I am about you."

"Aww," Santana laughs, rolling her eyes. "Sweet talker. Keep it up and we might have to go another round."

"I'm still exhausted from the last one."

"Or maybe you're exhausted because of all the noise that Rachel and Marley were making in the living room," Santana teases. "Maybe they kept you awake the rest of the night."

Quinn laughs. "I'd actually forgotten how loud Rachel can be," she says. "Poor Marley must be deaf now, after all that."

"Gotta give her points for stamina, though."

"Big points." Quinn sits up, and her stomach announces its need for breakfast. "Whoa. Guess that means it's time to get up."

"Noooo," Santana wails. "Can't we just stay in bed all day?"

"And let Rachel and Marley further defile our living room?" Quinn scrunches up her face in an expression of mock disgust. "As it is, I'm pretty sure we're going to need the couch professionally cleaned."

"I was thinking reupholstered. Or burned, maybe."

"Either way. Come on, sleepy head. Let's go see if our guests are awake."

Santana sits up groggily, wiping at her eyes. "Ugh, okay. If we must. But I get the first cup of coffee."

"You _always_ get the first cup of coffee."

"Need I remind you of the reason for that?"

Quinn shakes her head. "Nope. You definitely do not." She gets out of bed, gets two tank tops and two pairs of sleep shorts out of the drawer for herself and Santana, throws them on the bed. "Now let's make ourselves presentable before greeting Rachel and Marley."

"Okay, fine," Santana grumbles as she pulls her tank top down over her head. "Maybe we'll be lucky and Rachel will be in the shower. That way I might actually be able to talk to Marley without the hobbit interjecting after every third word."

"Or maybe they'll _both_ be in the shower."

"Oh God – first our living room, then our shower? What's next, the kitchen table?"

"Not like _we_ haven't done that," Quinn murmurs under her breath.

Santana fixes her with a warning glare. "What was that, blondie? I didn't quite catch it."

"Oh, come on. It's not like it isn't true," Quinn protests. "Now come on. Hey, maybe we can get Rachel to make her famous French toast."

"Mmmm. You read my mind, Q."

* * *

When they finally get out to the living room, Santana has to softly clap her hand over her mouth to keep from cackling aloud at the sight of Rachel and Marley's nude forms sprawled out on the floor, their clothing flung haphazardly around them.

 _"Damn,"_ she swears under her breath. "I'm telling you, Rachel's boobs have _definitely_ gotten a little bigger."

Quinn, stopped short behind her fiancee, peers around the other woman's shoulder. "Oh, my God, Santana. Go get them a blanket, will you? And stop looking at Rachel's chest, while you're at it."

Santana grins as she goes over to the linen closet to find a light blanket for the two guests. "Okay, fine," she whisper-calls. "I'll look at Marley's instead. Gotta say, Rachel's got great taste. Girl's in _shape."_ She chuckles to herself when she finds the blue blanket with the famous insignia of a certain world-famous comic book superhero on it. "Perfect."

 _"Give me that,"_ Quinn hisses, grabbing the blanket from Santana's hands. "And not another word about anybody's boobs. Understood?" Santana only smirks at the flush of heat coloring her fiancee's cheeks. "You're impossible." She gently covers the two still-sleeping women with the blanket, shaking her head.

Santana saunters past, still smirking, and heads into the kitchen. Quinn follows, once she's satisfied that the blanket has their guests thoroughly covered. She's trying to get the image of Marley and Rachel's naked bodies out of her mind, but it's not happening, and she realizes that it's not _going_ to happen as long as Santana's looking at her with that infuriating grin on her face.

"What?!" she finally snaps as she busies herself with the coffee maker. "What do you want me to say? That I'm happy that two of my best friends had sex all over our couch and living room floor all night long?"

"More or less, yes," Santana replies, her eyes sparkling with humor. "I mean, come on, Q. You left your prudish past with the Celibacy Club behind at McKinley along time ago."

"That's not the point, San. It's just..." she lowers her head, pinches the bridge of her nose with two fingers. "I don't know. I guess I just wasn't exactly expecting or prepared to see Marley naked when I woke up this morning. It's a bit much to take in, okay?"

Santana's about to reply – with something snarky, Quinn's certain – when they hear rustling sounds coming from the living room, followed by groggy groans and yawns.

"Oh my God," Rachel moans. "I am _never_ sleeping on the floor again, anywhere." As she pushes herself up, the blanket falls away. Santana's smile widens when her eyes meet Rachel's, and the diminutive starlet realizes she's not wearing anything.

"Eep!" she exclaims, startled, her wide eyes darting around the room, obviously looking for her clothes. When she catches sight of them, she gets up, collects them as quickly as she can, and runs off to the bathroom without another word.

"Rachel...? Baby, where...what?" Marley calls after her sleepily. "Why're you...?"

Quinn pours a mug of coffee for her friend, brings it over. "Hey. No, no. Don't get up." Her cheeks redden once again. She clears her throat. "You...you and Rachel – you're not...you didn't put any clothes back on last night."

Marley takes the mug, sips at the hot, steaming brew. "Oh." Her eyes pop open, expanding to the size of saucers when Quinn's words penetrate through the fog in her brain. _"Oh!"_

"Yeah, _oh,"_ Santana says, carefully stepping around the two women with her own mug of coffee in hand before settling into the recliner. "You two gave us quite an eyeful when we came out of the bedroom earlier. _Not_ that I'm complaining or anything. Nice abs, by the way. What, does Rachel have you doing Pilates or yoga or something?"

"Oh," Marley repeats, as though her mind is stuck on the word, incapable of formulating any other response. She sips at the coffee again, feels her mind clear just a bit more. "Um...thanks, I guess."

"Don't tease her, Santana," Quinn scolds. "She's embarrassed enough already."

"No, actually, I'm not. It's how we sleep at home." Quinn's blush deepens. Santana nearly coughs up her beverage. "It's true. I've learned so much about being comfortable in and proud of my body since I've been with Rachel. She's really helped me with that."

"Apparently," Santana deadpans. "Well, good for you."

The awkward silence that follows is suddenly broken when Rachel emerges from the bathroom wearing her shirt and a very skimpy pair of panties, but no pants. "These are _your_ jeans," she says simply, holding them out in Marley's direction.

They all stare at her for a moment in silence before breaking out in gales of laughter. It's a moment they'll long remember.

* * *

 **Thanks once again to DivineEscape for the prompt! I hope you all enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you did - or if you didn't - please feel free to leave a review or send me a PM and let me know! Thanks.**


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